Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character names, save my own original creations. I do not wish to be compensated for this work, nor do I wish to infringe on any copyrights held by any stakeholders of the movie King Arthur. This work is an original creation, based on the legend of King Arthur and his knights.
Scribe Notes:
All: Ok, Ok... Here is another chapter for everyone. My email keeps beeping at me every time I sit down in front of my computer today! I have another ready so here you go! 14 reviews in one day... eiow!
Sokorra Lewis: It is too hot! I was mucking stalls today and sweating. Ugh. Glad I couldmake your day with a fun chapter. I enjoyed writing it too!
Lilstrummrgrl527: Perceval is a good friend to Cerys, and to Lancelot. I like working with his personality, its always a fun time.
Ailis-70: I used to play amateur paintball, and I had a whole team of men jsut like Perceval in some way,that I played with from time to time. Fun-loving and goofballs, and so much fun to be with. I did leave a cliffhanger, but here is the resolution for you. Couldn't leave you folks hanging forever!
Calliann: Your review had me giggling! You weren't truly yelling were you? Thank you, I appreciate what you write in your reviews. I will try my hardest to keep my tone. Here is the next chapter for you!
Babaksmiles: Yes, beef bone is right. Brings me back to the days when I used to go clubbing (I am getting old, I tells ya) and the men would leer. Ugh... I can't for the life of me think why I let myself be looked at that way. But back then, it was fun. Octus turned from grateful man to annoying house guest, one who thinks he should get his way. It was fun to have Perceval rescue her, and I enjoyed writing that scene as I played it in my head. I am glad you enjoyed the chapter and I present another for you today!
Chapter 32: Sleeping in Armour
Cerys looked at Lancelot. He was standing there, lookingas ifhe was ready to fall over. His shoulders were slumped; his normally bright eyes were leaden.
She stepped over to him. He had not had any reaction to her news of Octus, which normally would have sent him into a frenzy, wanting to do unspeakable things to the man's innards, flay him alive, that sort of nonsense. This wasn't the first time her honour had been challenged.
For once, she wasn't quite sure which she preferred. That no one would cause a stir about that man's horrible intentions, or that Lancelot was not keen to defend her. He must be very tired, she concluded.
"How was the run? Any signs?" She said, willing him to speak. "You look wrung out."
He turned his head slowly to her and ran a hand over his face. He looked behind him, and seeing a bench, sat heavily.
"No, no movement. I just did not sleep is all. I am bloody tired."
Cerys sat beside him. She felt relieved at that. She had been worried when she saw him come in and he wasn't his usual boisterous self. She patted his thigh. Some wine and light banter would do him good.
"Good. Now that the nastiness is behind us, let's have some wine." She said as she stood again, pulling his hand up.
Lancelot shook his head. Cerys frowned. Perhaps he needed some time in his own bed before dinner. She wanted to put her arms about him at that moment, and comfort him. Strangely enough, she wanted to hold him and not let go. She was always worried about him, he was her best friend, but this felt different. This was pulling her heart.
"Alright. Let me walk with you to your rooms and shove you to your bed?"
Lancelot smirked, Cerys not realizing what she had just said could be construed differently than a friendly gesture. He then stood himself, slowly, groaning at the effort.
"Gods, a sleep until dinner may do me some good. You are right."
Lancelot reached a hand out from where he was and pulled Cerys by the waist, to him. He enfolded her in his arms, sighing as he did so. He smelled of horses, sweat and leather. Such wonderful smells of him, she thought.
She breathed in and relaxed, her arms finding a path around his waist, her ear to his chest. She felt his lips on the top of her head again and her stomach flipped. This was what she wanted but she was... was what? She didn't know.
"I missed you." He mumbled through her hair, his arms tightening for a heartbeat. He broke the embrace.
Cerys could feel tears coming to her eyes and she forced them to go away. She always missed him when he was away, but his words were bringing her emotions up now. She loved this man so much, she now realized.
So much that simple words could make her heart break in two.
"And I you." She said thickly, averting her eyes from his so that she could will them to stop watering. She took his hand again and they walked away from the common towards his rooms, silently enjoying each others closeness. They reached his door and stopped. He turned to open the latch, his hand resting heavily on it, his shoulders sagging. He was still wearing his riding armour, and it creaked as he moved about slightly.
"Cerys, if that man ever lays a hand on you again I will gut him, do you understand?" Lancelot said slowly, turning around to look at her. His eyes were serious, his jaw set. "I'm just too tired to do it right this moment.'
So he had caught it. Cerys smiled and winked.
"Of that, dear knight, I have no doubt."
With that, he too winked tiredly, opened his door and stepped inside.
Cerys smiled as he closed the door behind him, and then giggled as she heard him hit his bed, armour and all, with a resounding clang and thump together.
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
Lancelot woke, cursing himself for falling asleep before he could get his armour off. He had been so tired. Not sleeping the night before was a stupid thing to do. If only his mind had let him. Damn that old woman and her memory making him think of her all night!
He heaved himself to a sitting position and twisted his back about. He felt rotten for leaving his armour on so long. He mused that he could go for days out on a horse not changing, but this armour became insufferable the moment he would get back to home. He supposed that comfort became more of an issue once safely within the walls. He rubbed his face with a hand and stretched his jaw out. He needed a trim on his beard.
He reached inside his cuirass and pulled out the hair pins. He smoothed them under his hands, looking at them. He could see them; sticking out of the knot she would twist them up in, her hair falling out around them. He blinked and stretched, putting the pins down on the bed beside him. Damn...
He heaved off his greaves, then his boots. He undid his arming points and his cuirass and shoulder-plates dropped to the floor with a smash. He rose and stepped over them, untying his vambraces, which joined the armour on the floor. He stripped off his arming doublet, belt and chain mail, then his undertunic. It felt so good to get the layers off that he just stood for a moment and let the lack of weight on his body soak into him.
The cool air in his room hit his bare flesh, sending up goosebumps. He ignored them as he slowly stripped off his leather studded trews. He flexed his muscles tiredly. What he would not give for a massage at the baths that instant was beyond him.
A knock at the door made him grab for a set of linen trews, which he hastily tied. He smoothed a hand through his rumpled hair and padded to the door.
He opened the door. Arthur.
He would want a full report, and Lancelot had not formulated one yet. He was debating whether or not to tell the man about Tristan's alternate world. He should know, but he was loathe to give away something that was obviously precious to Tristan, and kept secret from the rest of them for so long.
"Arthur. Come in."
Arthur stepped into the room and looked around at the mess across the floors, the dustiness, the unused hearth. He cleared his throat and looked to Lancelot, setting down his lantern.
"What? Most nights I do not sleep here, save a few. What is the point in decorating?" He snapped as he walked over and rummaged through random things in a chest. He found a tunic and pulled it over his head.
"How was the run?" Arthur replied, a slight hint of amusement in his eyes. "Did you have a good evening with Tristan?"
Lancelot's head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes at Arthur. "What do you mean by that?"
Arthur chuckled and picked up Lancelot's cuirass, hefting it in his hand. "How is old Sabin? Did you meet Wynn?"
"You know?" Lancelot said slowly. He sighed and dropped a balled up set of linen rags in his hand into the chest on top of whatever else was in there.
Arthur nodded. "Tristan has been doing the run for four years. Do you not think that I have other eyes that would tell me of what happens in the outskirts of my own area?"
It was Lancelot's turn to chuckle. "Friend, I would not doubt it." He smiled then, and came over and they grasped each others hands in friendship, Arthur's other hand patting hisshoulder. They regarded each other for a moment, smiling. Each knew how much it meant to Tristan to keep it quiet. Of course he would have known. Lancelot was being daft.
Arthur must have known that Lancelot could use the night to relax, or he would have kept him home. He shook his head ruefully, his sideways grin on his face.
"I spoke with Rhia. I believe Sabin has passed away." He said. "Wynn is lovely, and Tristan is an ass for not claiming her."
They spoke for a few more moments on the run, Lancelot filling in much of a similar story to Tristan's, which he assumed the scout would have already given. Lancelot left out the part of Rhia's hair pins, and staying by the fire all night, thinking on Cerys and trying to decide what to do. That wasn't really needed. He continued to clean his belongings a bit, and found a leather overtunic he could wear for the evening and not be cold.
Arthur turned and sat on the edge of Lancelot's bed. He noticed the pins and picked them up.
"What are these?" He said as he turned them in his hands. "They're beautiful!"
Lancelot watched as he brought the two flat sides together and tilted his head to see the lion. He laughed.
"Sabin's lion!" He said happily. He flipped them over and then sobered immediately.
"How did you get hair pins with Guinevere's face on them?"
Lancelot looked quizzically at his friend. "That's not Guinevere on there man, it's Cerys, can't you see?" He sat beside his friend and took the pins, holding them up.
The two men sat and stared with frowns, tilting their heads back and forth as they regarded the cameo.
"What in bloody hells are you looking at?" A voice from the door startled both men. Galahad stood at the doorway, a drink in one hand and a bemused expression on the other. He stepped in, peering about.
"Don't have guests very often do you?"
"Shut it." Lancelot warned, growling. Galahad held up his hands.
"Come settle this for us. Lancelot has these pins, and there's a woman's face on them. I say its Guinevere, he says it's Cerys. What do you think?" Arthur offered.
Galahad peeked in sideways at the pins, which Lancelot held towards the light from the lantern. He frowned, his own brow furrowing. The staring and tilting of heads again commenced from all three men.
"It's Dory! I swear it!" Galahad suddenly exclaimed. He pulled the pins out of Lancelot's hands and held them up. "It's her likeness!"
Lancelot snatched them back, scowling. "Well whomever it is, don't breathe a word of it to anyone."
"Why not? Do you like wearing hairpins? Does your fancy dress need a new accessory?" Galahad teased, pretending to curtsey, earning another growl from Lancelot.
"No, they are for Ce..." Lancelot halted, "A gift for someone."
Arthur nodded and gave Galahad a quick glance. Galahad got the point, a smile coming to his face.
"Well, I was coming to get you both for a game of knucklebone. What say you?"
Arthur stood. "We will join you in a moment; I need to get Lancelot's report first."
Galahad waved his arm as he exited Lancelot's rooms and strode off towards the common.
"They are for Cerys?" He asked once the young knight was out of earshot. "Did Rhia give you these? They look like Sabin's work."
Lancelot nodded, suddenly feeling tired again. He wanted to change the subject. But he had to speak with Arthur about something else. He rose and began to pace.
"Has Cerys spoken with you?" He looked up to Arthur, who had also stood. His jaw set itself.
If she hadn't spoken to him, he was going to tell the commander anyways. That could not happen again. It should have been him "pretending" with her, not Perceval. He felt rotten enough that he couldn't protect her from these types of advances in general. It bothered him more this time, for some reason.
"No. Why?"
"Apparently Octus made advances, of a not so nice nature, when she was waiting for you in the hall with him. Perceval waded in and saved her by pretending to be her lover."
Arthur rubbed his forehead. "Ahh..." he groaned. "Now I understand why he asked after her this afternoon. Thank God for Perceval's tact or we would have a big bloody mess now."
"Asked after her?" Lancelot asked, his voice rising slightly. He did not like the sounds of this. Tact his arse. If Octus needed to be warned off of Cerys, he would show less and give him what for.
"Don't worry." Arthur admonished, gesturing with his hands to placate Lancelot, who looked ready to seethe. "I would not in a thousand years give her to him. I think we would all miss her too much, don't you?"
"If he touches her again..." Lancelot said between clenched teeth, going nose to nose with the taller knight. "I will kill him, that is a promise."
Arthur regarded his friend calmly, his hands still on the cuirass. Lancelot looked back defiantly, waiting for Arthur to tell him no.
Give me a reason! He screamed in his head. Give me one good reason why I should not! He silently ground his teeth and breathed, not backing down. Their eyes read each other for a moment. One set steaming, the other looking quietly back.
"I know. It's alright. He won't."
Lancelot groaned and ran a hand through his hair yet again, turning away. "Sorry. Don't know what's gotten into me lately."
"I do." Arthur said as he walked towards the door, setting the cuirass down on the floor. "And you're an ass for not claiming her."
Dear Reader:
Have you ever come home from an exhausting day to strip off your clothes and just stand, feeling the weight lift from whatever it was you were doing? It is Heaven. Also like taking a pair of high heels off after a full day walking in them, as us girls can attest to. That is what I imagine Lancelot felt like when he finally stripped off his armour. Could you imagine sleeping in that metal and weight? Ugh...
I hope you enjoyed, and are wondering what Lancelot will do with Arthur's statement. Thank you, dear readers, for coming along with me today. Three chapters! I hope to have more ready soon.
Until then,
Cardeia
